A Parliament of Spies (5 page)
Read A Parliament of Spies Online
Authors: Cassandra Clark
‘But anybody could enter through the enclosure, into the brewhouse itself, without coming in by the main door over the sluice?’
‘No, definitely not. It’s forbidden. Unless you want the brewmaster to say something to you.’
‘Was he there that morning?’ asked Edwin.
‘As I said. He was overseeing the casks, marking them up and making sure his ale was fit for travel. He was with me in the yard from getting up until His Grace said Mass, and he was standing right next to me when the lad came shrieking out with the news.’
‘To go back to the garden you mention,’ said Hildegard. ‘Is it overlooked?’
‘Only from the infirmary windows – oh, and by anybody walking along the path.’ Glance still averted.
Brother Thomas had a question. ‘Where does the path go?’
‘It continues towards the watermill – although there is a branch before that that’ll take you up to the main gate.’
‘And from there it joins the road the convoy took when we set out,’ concluded Edwin. He glanced at the other two. ‘Do you have any more questions for the moment, Domina?’
She shook her head.
‘And you, Brother?’
Thomas frowned. ‘Surely it would have been easy for somebody to go from the bakehouse through into the brewhouse at any time, wouldn’t it?’
The master cook was emphatic. ‘Not with my kitchen clerk overseeing matters. They’d have had to leave their stations, for one thing, and he wouldn’t stand for that in working hours. Not without leave and with so much to be done before we set out. Definitely out of the question.’
‘We need to talk to your kitchen clerk,’ remarked Edwin.
‘He’ll say the same as me.’
‘Are you suggesting, master, that we can discount your bakers altogether?’ Thomas leant forward.
Fulford frowned. ‘What exactly is this?’ He looked from one to the other. When nobody answered his colour rose. ‘Are we talking foul play here?’
He began to struggle to his feet. ‘Now look here, if you think any of my lads are capable of …’ He sat down again. After a moment he asked, ‘What really happened to the poor devil? Are you going to tell me? Because if there’s—’
‘He drowned, as you know,’ Edwin cut in. ‘We simply want to find out how it happened. It strikes us as odd,’ he continued, ‘that nobody knows what he was doing in the brewhouse nor how he made his way there, whether alone or with someone. And of course,’ he added, ‘I have to prepare a report for the coroner.’
Looking doubtful, Fulford sat down heavily on his bench. ‘So you’re trying to work out how Martin got into the brewhouse without being seen? And why he bothered to go there in the first place?’
‘That’s about it,’ agreed Edwin.
‘Your guess is as good as mine.’
‘I wonder,’ Hildegard interjected, ‘just for clarity, will you confirm that someone could have got into the brewhouse from the herb garden, whether forbidden to go in that way or not?’
‘I’m confirming nothing.’
‘Very well. But, from what you’ve just told us, the only conclusion to be drawn is this: in order to get inside the
brewhouse through the master’s private door, you’d have to approach by the path under the infirmary windows?’
brewhouse through the master’s private door, you’d have to approach by the path under the infirmary windows?’
Reluctantly he went on to agree that it would be easy to slip out through the back door of the main kitchens and take the path through the enclosure wall.
‘And then, if you didn’t want to be seen, all you’d have to worry about is a short walk under the windows?’
‘Even then it’s not likely you’d be noticed,’ he reluctantly pointed out. ‘Them windows is high up. You’d have to stand on tiptoe to see out, or be some kind of giant,’ he added.
‘Putting aside the question of giants, it must be possible for somebody to slip into the brewhouse unnoticed through the brewmaster’s door, even when the bakehouse is going full swing?’
‘Possible.’
Edwin looked pleased.
‘Possible,’ Fulford repeated. ‘But forbidden.’
‘You can leave us now, Master Fulford. Many thanks for your help.’
After the cook had heaved himself off his bench and before leaving the chamber he stood by the door with a fierce look. ‘You think Martin was done in. It’s not one of my lads. I’ll lay my life on it. And if it is, I’ll want to be the first to see him hang.’
After he’d gone Edwin said, ‘Hell, it’s like getting blood out of a stone. Now all we need to know is whether anybody saw Martin going off in that direction and whether he’d had words with anybody that morning. It’s my bet he had a falling-out with someone and they followed him down to the brewhouse to show him what for.’
‘That may be so, but why would he go sneaking in there by the back entrance anyway?’ Hildegard still puzzled.
‘His job could entail a visit to the herb gardens, I suppose,’ Thomas contributed, ‘but, you’re right, why enter the brewhouse?’
‘Unless to meet somebody in secret,’ Hildegard suggested.
‘It was all confusion that morning, with everybody preparing to leave for London,’ Edwin pointed out. ‘But they were all busy in the yard. It might have been the only empty place they could find if they wanted to settle something in private. He’d have had to carry his personal stuff from the lay brothers’ dormitory to the wagons like the rest of us, so somebody will have noticed him.’
Edwin scribbled rapidly, the quill flying over the parchment with a harsh scratching sound. ‘We’ll find out,’ he murmured.
Hildegard was frowning. ‘Do you remember that argument over the number of people in the entourage? There was one more when they had a recount.’
‘So the chamberlain wasn’t wrong, after all. He was adamant there were only forty, as permitted. “I learnt to count when I was a babe in arms!” I heard him say.’
‘There were forty before we went into Mass,’ Thomas pointed out, ‘and forty-one when we came out. Someone – I mean, the murderer – must have rejoined us then.’
The kitchen clerk entered as soon as the page announced him. In contrast to his master he was a thin harassed-looking individual with a groove-line of worry down his forehead and a habit of biting his bottom lip. It was
clear from his manner that he knew he was going to be questioned about more than an accidental death.
clear from his manner that he knew he was going to be questioned about more than an accidental death.
Before anybody spoke he waved a vellum roll and said, ‘It’s all down here. Anything you want to know, it’s here recorded. Who, where and when. That’s my job. And you’ll agree, Edwin, I know my job.’
‘Indeed,’ Edwin murmured. ‘But it can’t all be down there, can it?’
‘Everything that happened that was above board.’ He leant forward and mouthed, ‘So it’s true, he was done in?’
‘We don’t know. Why do you ask that?’
He looked confused. ‘Master’s said so just now. He’s still out there trying to get his breath back. He’s in a terrible state.’
‘Well, he is right, insofar as we do have a few questions to ask. As he may have mentioned, I have a report to make. More than that we can’t say.’
The kitchen clerk turned to Hildegard. ‘Domina, permit me to read it to you—’
Edwin broke in. ‘My gratitude, master, but that won’t be necessary.’ He eyed him as one professional to another. ‘We’d be more than grateful if you’d leave your written testimony to one side for a moment and tell us in your own words what you remember of the morning in question.’
With the wind taken out of his sails the kitchen clerk glanced at his records then reluctantly stuffed them back inside his jerkin.
‘You can let us have a look at them later. Pray proceed,’ Edwin encouraged.
‘Well, it’s like this …’ He paused as if at a loss now
the written word had been forbidden him. ‘We get up at the usual hour.’
the written word had been forbidden him. ‘We get up at the usual hour.’
‘At what time?’
‘You know what time, Edwin. You were there yourself, overseeing the archbishop’s morning tisane as usual.’
‘It’s by his special request,’ Edwin came back with some asperity.
‘I’m saying nothing about it. I’m simply saying you were there. You must have seen everybody that came into the kitchens at that time.’
‘I certainly didn’t make notes. What about Martin? Let’s keep to the point. Did you see him then or not?’
‘He came in, yes. The bakers were just starting to bring their bread over. I remember breaking a piece off for you and you making some comment about not wanting the coals of hell in your gob. Anyway, Martin did come in. It was soon after you left.’
‘Was he alone?’ asked Hildegard.
‘Aye. Alone. He took a lump of bread and made no untoward comment.’
‘It had probably cooled somewhat by then?’ suggested Thomas, automatically spreading oil on troubled waters.
‘Aye, it would have. It would be not much later but enough for bread to cool.’ The kitchen clerk gave them all a pitying look at wasting time with the obvious. ‘Then the bread was loaded into wicker baskets to be stowed on racks in the sumpter wagon. Martin helped with that until I told him he didn’t have to.’
‘Why did he help you? Was it his job?’ asked Hildegard.
‘It wasn’t. But he was like that. He felt it was his duty to help whenever he could.’
‘A penance of some sort?’ Thomas queried.
The kitchen clerk looked surprised. He cleared his throat and seemed to have forgotten what he had been about to say.
‘And after you told him not to help, what did he do next?’ Hildegard encouraged.
‘I advised him to make sure he had everything with him he’d need for the journey.’
‘So he was to come with us, then?’ Hildegard asked just to be sure.
‘Aye. Somewhat reluctant, like. He didn’t want to leave his wife by herself.’
‘Was she ill?’
‘No. She was new. What’s that Latin word? Uxorious, aye, that’s the one. Martin was still at the uxorious stage. Been handfast less than three months. Tried to persuade the steward to allow her to come with us. “What! A woman in a retinue of menfolk? I hardly think so!” You know the steward, Edwin,’ he turned to his counterpart in the inner household.
‘So did he leave you then to go and get his things?’ Hildegard asked, her status as a woman clearly in abeyance.
The kitchen clerk’s face was suddenly set in stone. ‘He left. I don’t know where he went. That’s the last time I clapped eyes on the poor devil.’
‘He left alone, presumably?’ asked Edwin for neatness.
The kitchen clerk nodded. ‘Quite alone. He went out by way of the lay brothers’ refectory, if you’re asking.’
Edwin’s glance sharpened. ‘I was just about to ask you that. Why would he go out that way? He must have known
there would be nothing to eat in there that morning. His dormitory lies at the opposite end of the building, adjoining the kitchens on the other side.’ He turned to Hildegard and Thomas. ‘I should explain that there are quarters for our married laymen in a wing leading off the lay brothers’ dormitory. Martin’s wife worked as a laundress for us.’
there would be nothing to eat in there that morning. His dormitory lies at the opposite end of the building, adjoining the kitchens on the other side.’ He turned to Hildegard and Thomas. ‘I should explain that there are quarters for our married laymen in a wing leading off the lay brothers’ dormitory. Martin’s wife worked as a laundress for us.’
The kitchen clerk was frowning now. ‘You know, at the time I thought it unexpected but I assumed he was maybe going out through yon door to fetch some herbs from the enclosure. I thought maybe that was his intention,’ he frowned, ‘but we’ll never know now, will we?’
Edwin was again scribbling furiously and broke off with a muttered curse to sharpen his quill with a little penknife.
‘Just for clarity’s sake,’ murmured Hildegard. ‘This back door leading out of the refectory into the herb garden near the bakehouse – is it inside or outside the enclosure wall?’
The kitchen clerk looked mystified. ‘It’s just inside. There’s a door in the wall leading out to where the gardens are.’
‘Thank you.’
The kitchen clerk took his sheaf of notes from his jerkin and placed them on Edwin’s writing tray. ‘Look after them. I must be getting on if that’s all, masters, Domina.’ He inclined his head towards Hildegard. ‘Work to be done. People never stop eating.’
‘Thanks, Cedward,’ Edwin barely looked up. ‘Tell us if you think of anything else.’
‘You can count on it. I want this sorted as quick as you
do. I tell you, nobody’s going to dare walk alone when this gets out.’
do. I tell you, nobody’s going to dare walk alone when this gets out.’
The door closed softly behind him.
There was a long silence. ‘From the murderer’s point of view the safest time was when everybody was busy loading the wagons. Then he could slip back to join us afterwards, probably when we were all in church.’ Thomas let out a sigh. ‘Sadly it’s no good asking me who I saw in there. Not with all that incense and my eyes streaming with tears.’
‘So was anybody else likely to be in the kitchen gardens at that time in the morning, Edwin?’
‘Gardeners?’
‘But it was scarcely light at that point,’ she reminded.
Edwin sniffed. ‘Always pottering at unlikely hours, aren’t they?’ He threw down his quill. ‘Let’s call one of them.’
‘Good idea,’ agreed Thomas. ‘But how? Surely they’re all still in Bishopthorpe?’
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